Page 134 of Impossible Love

About a half hour later, everyone hears him say: “This next one is a special request from our flower girl, Miss Jasmine MacLaine, who wishes to take a spin around the dance floor with her dad.”

My mouth falls open as Jasmine walks over to me and takes my hand. She leads me out to the center of the parquet while everyone cheers. “Let’s do this, Daddy,” she says. And the place starts rockin’ out to “Stayin’ Alive” by the Bee Gees.

It’s the best moment I’ve had in a very long time, but I don’t get a second dance. Instead, she moves on to her uncles, then the chocolate fountain, followed by Ripley and Sarah Connor. I dance with Aunt Phyllis and Victoria and her assistant, Millicent, who is a very nice woman. Eventually, I take a seat next to Summer at table number two.

“Don’t even ask me to dance,” she growls.

“I wouldn’t dare. My ’nads are far too important to me.”

She hands me a shrimp puff. She has a plate piled high with them and some sort of French pastry. I snag one of those, too, and pop it into my mouth. Summer pulls at her dress and tips her head from side to side, like she’s loosening up for some hand-to-hand combat.

“I can’t wait to get out of this straightjacket,” she complains. “Why do women do this to themselves? I wanted to wear jeans and a T-shirt, but Victoria insisted I wear this itchy thing.”

“Jeans? To a wedding?”

“What? They’re nice jeans. I was going to iron them, you know, put a nice crease down the center. Not like that chick.”

I turn to see who she’s talking about.

A young woman is peeking her head into the tent. She looks lost and curious. Summer’s right—her jeans have seen better days, and she’s wearing a shapeless green jacket that’s way too big for her. Her long raven-black hair slips forward, and she pushes it behind her shoulder absentmindedly.

I suck in air.

She’s absolutely beautiful. There isn’t a speck of makeup on her. No jewelry or piercings. Not even a hair barrette. She’s an exquisite wild creature. She shines. She glows.

“I swear I’m just gonna rip this shit off and skinny-dip in the lake,” Summer says, fidgeting. “More shrimp puffs?”

“No thanks.” I can’t take my eyes off her.

“Declan said he’d give me a bonus if I wear this dress on steer castration day. I’m not sure if he was joking, but I plan to do it, just to see his reaction.” Summer snorts with laughter. “What I’d really like to do is find the heifers who used to give me shit in high school and make them wear it. You know, wishing it on my worst enemy and all that.”

Summer holds a pastry under my nose. “Macaron?”

I take it from her and toss it in my mouth. I still can’t pull my gaze from the woman with the shiny dark hair. Who is she? Why in the world is she here? Is she lost?

I watch her take a few tentative steps inside the tent, scanning the faces of those on the dance floor, at the tables, or mingling with drinks. She’s searching for someone in particular. In one hand she holds a tattered duffel bag, and it looks heavy.

I stare. Stare some more. What’s wrong with me?

This is beyond strange, but I want to know her. I have to know her. She’s absolutely stunning, but that’s not all. She’s fascinates me.

And that thought fills me with intense guilt. I’ve had women since Amy passed away. I’m a healthy male, after all, and I’ve needed a few hours of companionship from time to time. But never have I found myself so mesmerized by a woman.

Never.

To be continued…

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